The night before the finals, Root's underground stronghold.
The air here was colder and damper than a tomb. Moisture seeped from the walls, and only a few chakra lamps cast dim light, stretching people's shadows thin and long.
Shimura Danzō sat in the seat of honor, his expression darker than the stones in this stronghold. On the table before him sat a metal tray containing a small pinch of scorched, vitrified soil.
His trusted subordinate had brought it back from that unnamed bridge. It was the only trace left behind by that silent attack.
"What were the analysis results?" Danzo's voice was hoarse, like two rusted iron plates grinding together.
A Root ninja wearing a mask and a white lab coat knelt on one knee and presented a scroll with both hands. "Sir, the analysis of the residual energy has been completed."
He swallowed before finding the courage to continue. "The... analysis shows that it was an attack method never recorded in our database. Extreme heat, extreme speed, and extreme penetration, but... no chakra signature. The point of origin was three kilometers away. We... cannot track it."
Cannot track it.
That conclusion pierced Danzo's heart like an icicle.
He had spent his entire life plotting in the shadows, regarding intelligence and secrets as his most powerful weapons. Yet now, a force he could neither comprehend nor sense had nearly blown his head apart.
The fear of the unknown made him tremble as though a countdown to death had begun.
Orochimaru...
He immediately thought of that defector. Only that madman obsessed with forbidden techniques could possibly create something like this.
That bastard was trying to flip the table!
Danzo gripped his cane tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand. Wariness and killing intent tangled wildly in his single eye.